


Sign Away Every Hour

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, Bottom Castiel, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Make Them Do It, Post Season 7, Semi-Public Sex, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a sex spell that Sam can use to open a door to Purgatory. Good thing there’s a Prophet of the Lord around who can participate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sign Away Every Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at the SPN kink meme which goes: "To get Dean out of purgatory Sam and Kevin have to sleep together. Sam is ready to fuck Kevin when Crowley tells them that nope! Is Kevin who’s fucking Sam."

They undress in near silence, the only sounds in the room being Meg’s tapping her knife against something and the soft shuffle of someone’s feet. Sam’s facing the wall, trying to center his thoughts as he peels his shirts off. Surprisingly, Meg doesn’t cat-call, though she does hiss a faint, “Shove it” — presumably to Crowley.  
  
Sam dares a glance sideways. Kevin’s back is to him, and Sam lets his eyes linger on the unexpected muscle definition in his back and shoulders — he’s on the baseball team, Sam recalls, though he prefers the workout from cello practice and occasional table tennis game with his mom. But it doesn’t change the fact that Kevin’s small, and smaller still without his shirts. There’s a soft woosh as Kevin pulls out his belt.  
  
Sam opens his mouth, and then closes it. Better to focus on taking his shoes off and adding his pants to his pile of clothing. There’s nothing he can say that hasn’t already been said — ___argued_ — over and over again over the past few hours.  
  
The abandoned cabin they’ve taken for tonight is sparse but usable. There’s no TV here but Sam still his laptop. He goes to it now, pulling up his playlist and turning up the volume. It’s not much, but it’s better than the quiet.  
  
“Any day now,” Crowley chips in. He’s still tied in his chair, Devil’s trap around his feet and Meg standing guard, but his expression is bored, expectant. Sam hadn’t wanted to believe what he’d told them, but Inias had confirmed it. There are few ways to open another door into Purgatory, and this is one of the simplest.  
  
Funny, that. _Simplest_.  
  
“Keep him quiet,” Sam says over his shoulder. Meg doesn’t reply, but there’s a faint choking sound and then there’s only Bruno Mars’ crooning left in the room.  
  
“I’m, um,” Kevin says. “Ready.”  
  
Sam takes a deep breath and turns around. Kevin’s back is still to him, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Sam makes himself look. Kevin is a friend, a stalwart, he’s proven his mettle over and over again in the past couple of weeks. Kevin has taken to hunter lore like a sponge, swallowing facts and spitting them out with his fresh perspective — Sam’s not ashamed to say he’s learned stuff from _him_ as much as he’s learned from riding with Sam. Kevin has guts and brains and heart and doesn’t deserve any of this.  
  
“Okay then,” Sam says. There may be no TV here but they do have lubricant, and Sam uncaps the bottle to squirt some onto his fingers.  
  
A gasp. Sam’s head snaps up and he finds Kevin staring at him. His eyes are wide and he has dark nipples on a pale, heaving chest — don’t think about his age, don’t think, he’s an ally, a friend, focus on that — and then he lets out a mortified, shocked sound. Kevin almost doubles over, wheezing, and Sam’s eyes drift down to where he’s clutching his now-wet cock.  
  
“Whoa, we’re not even at the appetizers yet!” Crowley laughs.  
  
He can laugh, Meg will deal with him. Sam’s already taken two long strides across the room to throw his arms around Kevin, squeezing him tight despite Kevin’s babbling and attempts to pull away.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kevin says. He tries to shift his groin away to avoid contact, but Sam holds on.  
  
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Sam insists. He starts to say that Kevin’s just a teenager but he stops himself — to say it is to acknowledge it, and he can’t go there. “It’s just biology, right? No big deal.”  
  
“No big deal?” Kevin echoes. “Okay, okay, look, this might be normal in your world--”  
  
“It isn’t. Not at all.”  
  
“Oh, great, so it _isn’t_ normal for a guy to go off the moment they see you — uh...” Kevin groans and goes still, too embarrassed to go on.  
  
Sam licks his lips. He can take the time to process his own feelings later — maybe later, maybe never — but for now he has to think about Kevin. A Prophet of the Lord is the key to opening the door to Purgatory, and Sam is the relation of blood that’ll ensure that the door will find Dean. That’s what this is on the surface: A plus B to a goal of C — but also mixed up in this is the fact that Sam’s responsible for Kevin far more than Kevin thinks he’s responsible for Sam (and Dean and Castiel), and Sam’s known that Kevin’s had a crush on him since the second week they’d been on the road together.  
  
“Like I said,” Sam says carefully. “It’s no big deal.”  
  
Kevin is very still and very quiet. Somewhere in the background The Zombies inappropriately wonder _who’s your daddy_ but Kevin remains unmoving in the circle of Sam’s arms. Sam starts to wonder when he’d last held someone like this, but quickly shoves that thought aside. Later.  
  
“It’s...” Sam carefully cups the back of Kevin’s head, pushing fingers through his hair to scrape comfortingly against his scalp. “It’s flattering.”  
  
Kevin starts in surprise, whole body jerking, and Sam takes this opportunity to tip Kevin’s head back. Kevin’s eyes are still wide and his mouth slightly open — it’s a very plush mouth — and he looks terribly, horribly vulnerable.  
  
Sam lowers his head and kisses him. Softly and cautiously, waiting until Kevin sighs and starts kissing back.  
  
It’s been easy to ignore this part of Kevin — the glancing looks, the appreciative smiles — because there’s so much more to him than that. Kevin is resilient and patient and deserves so much better than this for a first time. Kevin deserves someone as full of possibilities as he is, someone who can explore with him and discover everything he has to offer layer by layer.  
  
Instead he’s here, in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, about to get fucked because that’s what it takes to save someone he barely knows.  
  
“Hey,” Kevin says quickly, hands coming up to hold Sam’s face. “Hey, we’re in this together, right? That’s what you said.” His smiles is too trusting and his fingers too gentle where they stroke Sam’s cheeks. “Together.”  
  
“Yeah.” Sam lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I’ll — I’ll be careful.”  
  
“Hey,” Meg says. Sam turns sharply to glare at her, but she raises a hand placatingly. “Mr. Sunshine here says you’ve got it wrong. It’s the Prophet who has to do the anointing. You’re the... receptacle.” She shrugs, and then knocks the back of Crowley’s head for emphasis.  
  
Sam can feel Kevin starts to tense up again so he spins them, making sure that Kevin’s back is to Meg and Crowley, and starts kissing him again.  
  
Stronger kisses now, firmer and pressing, sweeping his tongue into Kevin’s mouth to help him forget their audience and get used to the idea. It’s one thing to harbor a fantasy about a guy, it’s another to actually be able to touch him, but Kevin’s hesitation is brief. He groans against Sam’s mouth and archs up against him, arms sliding onto Sam’s shoulders to claim the space against Sam’s body.  
  
Sam realizes that the lubricant is still on his fingers — less now, but enough — so he reaches behind himself. He refuses to acknowledge Meg and Crowley’s eyes on them because they’re as inconsequential as the broken stove in the corner or the laptop currently whistling about rivers in the summer. He just pushes his fingers into himself firmly.  
  
They’re still kissing — sloppier now, but Kevin’s directing it, sucking on Sam’s tongue and moving his mouth so that Sam can follow. Kevin’s also hard against Sam’s thigh, which is really all they need.  
  
“Can I?” Kevin’s eyes are dark, and he’s panting. “You’re stretching yourself, right? Can I try?”  
  
“You want to...” Sam can’t help laughing softly at the way Kevin drops his gaze in embarrassment. “No, no, of course you can. It’s just, uh... I’ve already got it covered. But never mind, you can go for it.”  
  
They find the bottle of lube. Sam crowds Kevin towards the table they’d agreed to use for this; all the markings have been drawn into it and the summoning bowl nearby. Kevin dribbles lubricant on his fingers while Sam checks the angle — it’s perfect, Kevin can fuck him on the table and keep his back to Crowley and Meg the whole time.  
  
“Just, um, tell me if I’m doing anything wrong.” Kevin retreats behind Sam, who leans over the table.  
  
It’s been a while since Sam’s done this — he won’t call up specific memories, not now. He rests his head on his pillowed arms and closes his eyes. Kevin’s taking his own sweet time, which is okay, because he’s definitely allowed. He strokes down the backs of Sam’s thighs, nudging his knees apart and then palming his way back up to Sam’s ass.  
  
There’s a flicker of a touch at Sam’s hole, but then Kevin’s choking, “Oh god,” and the touch is gone. “I’m not gonna go off again! No!”  
  
Sam looks over his shoulder; Kevin’s pressing his face against Sam’s lower back, breathing heavily. “Uh. If you can get it up again afterward, that might not be a problem.”  
  
“You’re hot but not _that_ hot.” Then, a little more skeptically, “I think?”  
  
“Take your time. It’s not a race.” Sam turns back around and closes his eyes.  
  
Kevin takes the encouragement, drawing away from where he’d been knocking his forehead to the base of Sam’s spine. Those fingers start prodding at Sam again, then one pushes into him, slick with lube and sliding  curiously inside.  
  
It’s too slow, too gentle. Kevin spreads Sam’s ass cheeks and kisses the damp skin of his inner thighs — light, little pecks that shouldn’t make Sam shiver. Kevin adds another finger so there’s two working Sam, swivelling slowly inside him. His touch is experimental and careful, but with too much extra unnecessary care — which makes Sam’s skin feel too tight. Sam should just roll over and mount Kevin, get this done, anointing completed, then it’d all be over and Kevin will be free.  
  
“Sam?” Kevin’s pulled his fingers out and is just rubbing the pad of his thumb against Sam’s opening. “Sam, you okay? You’re breathing kind of...”  
  
“I’m fine.” Sam turns over, sliding up onto the table and getting comfortable lying half on his back, half on his side, his knees up towards his chest so he’s partially in a foetal position. “It’s good, we’re good to go.”  
  
Kevin, when Sam finally dares look at him, is a gaping. “Oh.” His eyes soften with relief.  
  
Sam follows his gaze down and inhales sharply. Sam’s dick is _hard_ , flushed red and pressing upwards to his stomach. He hadn’t even noticed.  
  
“Sam, hey,” Kevin says quickly, grabbing Sam’s hand. Sam jerks, blinking rapidly up at Kevin and registering the alarm on his face. Sam feels too hot and cold at the same time, stomach a lead ball trying to push its way up into his chest. Kevin fits their fingers and says, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”  
  
Jesus, Sam can see the faint smattering of hair low on Kevin’s stomach where it leads to a smooth uncut cock that’s slightly curved. A thousand little moments flash through Sam’s mind — Kevin sitting with him for hours in the library, Kevin showing him how to fold clothes economically, Kevin arguing with him over lore, Kevin holding a little too long during a hug that his smell lingers on Sam’s clothes afterward.  
  
Sam starts in surprise — Kevin’s kissing him again. Kevin’s half-crawled on top of him, hand hooked around the back of Sam’s neck so that he can mold his mouth to Sam’s firmly. Sam closes his eyes and tries to just fall into how Kevin tastes, feels, sounds.  
  
“God,” Sam groans into Kevin’s mouth. “I can’t want this.”  
  
“Can’t...?” Kevin echoes, surprised.  
  
“Let’s just not...” Sam hisses, gritting his teeth. He cups the side Kevin’s face, pressing their foreheads together. “Can we not talk about it?”  
  
“Sure,” Kevin says, but he sounds more assured now, more steady. He can’t possibly understand, but Kevin’s a smart guy, maybe he has an idea. He’s got his gameface back on, and he slides his hands comfortingly down Sam’s chest and stomach. “I’m counting on you to let me know if I do anything wrong, okay?”  
  
The breath punches out of Sam at the first breach. Sam’s got one hand above his head, holding to the edge of the table to brace himself. The other hand is still twined with Kevin’s, and he squeezes down and releases to mark Kevin’s _start_ and _stop_. The burn in Sam’s ass actually minimal but it’s the rest of the Sam that’s resisting — thanks to that little voice at the back of his head that keeps reminding him that he doesn’t need to come for the spell to work.  
  
But Kevin can’t do this alone. He’s already going to have this memory for the rest of his life, and whenever Sam starts to think about that too closely his mind wants to shut down and drag the rest of his body with it.  
  
So he can’t think about that.  
  
“Harder,” Sam whispers. Kevin’s biting his lip, one hand braced on the table as he fucks into Sam. “Harder, it’s okay.” He grunts when Kevin obliges, and then nods encouragingly. “Yes, like that. Move a little to the — to the right, you can find my...” Sam shudders, the scrape against his prostate sending liquid lightning through his veins.  
  
“I think I got it.” Kevin leans forward slightly, rubbing his cheek against the side of Sam’s knee. Sam is mesmerized when Kevin pulls back his lips, dragging his teeth across the skin there. “Wow, oh wow.”  
  
Kevin’s got a good rhythm now, pumping steadily in and out. The stretch in Sam’s ass is... good, actually, strong and satisfying as it calls up parts of him that he hasn’t thought about for a while. Sam can hear himself gasping praise but it seems to be coming from far away.  
  
“Sam, can I...?” Kevin’s hand curls around Sam’s cock. Sam nods frantically and wraps his own hand around Kevin’s, guiding him to move up and down the shaft, sending bright bursts of pleasure along Sam’s skin.  
  
Sam has the hysterical, furious thought that _of course_ it’d happen this way, _of course_ he shouldn’t have expected anything else from the story that is his life. He hears a choked sob — oh, that came from him — and feels Kevin murmur reassurances against the skin of his thighs.  
  
The orgasm hits like a punch to gut, raw and sweet and almost painful. Sam rides it out, loving and hating how good it feels, growling when Kevin slows down his thrusts. “Keep going!” Sam tries to say, but it comes out garbled nonsense, though Kevin miraculously gets the hint and keeps fucking him, hard and strong and sure, until the last drops of pleasure are drawn out of him.  
  
Kevin comes with a shocked cry, hips stuttering their last few thrusts before he stiffens. Sam sighs at the filthy hot feel of Kevin spilling inside him, and squeezes around his cock a few more times for good measure.  
  
Kevin looks shaky in the aftermath, so Sam sits up, ignoring his protesting back, and pulls Kevin into another firm hug. Sam can’t even wrap his legs around Kevin — Kevin’s body just isn’t suitable for that — but he holds on, rocking them gently back and forth until Kevin finally stops trembling.  
  
Sam smiles when he feels Kevin’s fingers in his hair, tugging at the strands weakly. Sam adjusts the fit of their bodies, moving their faces so he can kiss Kevin, going back to the soft, careful kisses of earlier. Kevin’s too breathless to kiss back properly but he appreciates the gesture, mewling contentedly against Sam’s mouth.  
  
“Hate to break this up,” Meg says, “But you’ve just kickstarted the spell. Might want to get dressed now, just a suggestion.”  
  
Kevin pulls away first, but he doesn’t shy away from looking Sam straight in the eye. His mouth quirks upwards, just a little, which makes Sam hope that this hasn’t been the worst experience of his life.  
  
+  
  
Dean is grimy and too busy spitting enthusiastic descriptions of Purgatory to notice anything amiss. Sam hugs him and then backs away to let Dean yell at Crowley, who just rolls his eyes and snarls behind his gag.  
  
“It’s good to see you, Sam,” Cas says. Unlike Dean’s lost cause of clothes, Cas’ hospital scrubs are almost exactly the way Sam remembers, which should make for an interesting story later. “Dean was getting really unhappy towards the end there.”  
  
“I should go,” Kevin says. He’s dressed up again, buttoned almost all the way up to his neck and hands clasped in front of him, but the cowlicks in his hair and the lingering flush on his skin make Sam wonder what it’d be like to peel all that packaging off to see what else has been left behind. “You don’t need me anymore.”  
  
“Kevin...” Sam starts.  
  
“It’s true, though.” Kevin doesn’t say it to be self-deprecating. He’s realistic and as level-headed as can be expected for someone in his situation. “I should check on my mom.” To Cas, he says, “I’m really happy you and Dean got out okay.”  
  
“Yeah.” Sam nods rapidly. Kevin has a life to get back to, and an amazing future he’s yet to claim. “Thanks, man. You’ve been... I don’t know if I could’ve done it without you.”  
  
Kevin does laugh at that, and Sam’s chest tightens. If he can still laugh, then not all’s lost. “I’ll see you around, then?” Kevin says carefully — ___hopefully_.  
  
“Yeah.” Sam doesn’t even have to lie. “I’d like that. You have my email and number, so you can... whatever.”  
  
Kevin darts forward suddenly, grabbing Sam’s torso in a hug. He mashes his face against against Sam’s chest and even after all their hugging and other... things... Sam feels suddenly, terribly awkward. He eventually manages to drop his arms around Kevin, though he’s still unsure what’s appropriate to touch or where, but Kevin doesn’t seem to mind.  
  
“You take care of yourself, okay?” Kevin says, voice slightly muffled. “Thank you for everything.”  
  
Sam’s perplexed by that last part, but he can’t quite bring himself to ask what Kevin means. He just watches as Kevin pulls away, still smiling faintly, and steps towards Cas. “Can you take me to my mom?”  
  
“Of course,” Cas says, and then they’re gone.


End file.
